When: April 2012
Where: Caruthers Canyon, Mojave National Preserve
With: my partner and my parents
What: camping
Accompaniment: Bixby Canyon Bridge by Death Cab for Cutie
We bumped along the Mojave Road through a sea of joshua trees, making our second attempt at finding a campsite for the day. We’d been thwarted from our first try by a road a little more 4WD than we were prepared for solo, but my dad had another option picked out: Caruthers Canyon. Looking at the barren expanse surrounding us, I was skeptical we’d find somewhere nice to camp in the sweltering heat. Why had I left the cool Washington spring for the stifling desert? I imagine the pioneers slogging beside their wagons down the Mojave Road a hundred and fifty years ago felt the same way: we came all this way for this?
But we matched the unmarked dirt roads against the map and lurched along into the New York Mountains, a Jackson Pollock agglomeration of boulders. A deep gulch on the road didn’t stymie the 4Runner, and we pulled into the campsite.
A haven in the desert. Scraggly trees cast much-needed shade, and boulders formed a protective cradle around the site. It hardly seemed possible this spectacular place was minutes from the desert wastelands. Yet here it was, a hidden gift from the desert, ours for this time.
Where did you find a surprising oasis?
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